


Why Do Dad's Like Ties?

by porgsploitation



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Father's Day, Weird History, stupid fluffy cute, why do dad's like ties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24854098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porgsploitation/pseuds/porgsploitation
Summary: “So...is Happy Father’s Day appropriate?”Alex Reagan set his tea down and sat beside her research partner, his features focused on the paper in front of him.“Hmn?” He checked something off on the paper he was working on. Raising his gaze, he blinked at her owlishly and Alex snorted - amused. Richard Strand always looked like he was surfacing from water whenever she broke his concentration.“Father’s day. I was just about to go call my dad and I figured - you know. Given the circumstances..."--Richard Strand and Alex talk Father's Day
Relationships: Alex Reagan & Nic Silver, Alex Reagan/Richard Strand, Charlie Strand & Richard Strand, Stragan
Kudos: 11





	Why Do Dad's Like Ties?

“So...is Happy Father’s Day appropriate?”

Alex Reagan set his tea down and sat beside her research partner, his features focused on the paper in front of him.

“Hmn?” He checked something off on the paper he was working on. Raising his gaze, he blinked at her owlishly and Alex snorted - amused. Richard Strand always looked like he was surfacing from water whenever she broke his concentration.

“Father’s day. I was just about to go call my dad and I figured - you know. Given the circumstances I know -” she held up a hand before he could respond, “ I know-I know it’s a bad situation but it doesn’t change the circumstances. Happy Father’s Day-”

Richard was giving her that look again - like he pitied her before he set his pen down.

“If you wanted to be more traditional you could have wished me happy father’s day March 19th - that’s when the Catholic church celebrates it as St. Joseph’s Day. And as it is.” He tapped his pen on the paper and Alex caught something like pain behind his black rimmed glasses, “Technically the day was _started_ by a woman. Sonora Smart Dodd had thought to compliment Mother’s Day. Mother’s Day is significantly more important and has more cultural significance. It’s far older…”

“Okay. Enough deflecting.” Alex waved him off, “You always do that.”

Now he looked nonplussed, “Do what?”

“You _deflect_.” Alex sat and pointed a finger at him, “Whenever you don’t want to talk about something you pull facts out of your ass like a porcupine pulls spines out of it’s butt. It can’t _not_ be...well you can’t think it’s not important because-”

“Say it.” Richard’s Strand’s voice went cold, “Go ahead. I can’t think it’s _not_ important because I have a child.”

It was perhaps trite, but it was rude for him to deflect and rude for her to push it forward and the two of them _pushed_ mentally against each other for a moment before Richard rose.

“Children shouldn’t have to show their _love_ to any figure with cards or useless trinkets. And fathers shouldn’t expect it. It’s _rude_.” He paused, “...I think my father has a book on this. I’ll go look at his study. Back in a moment.”

Rising, he took the paperwork, pausing to take his tea, before he nodded stiffly and left the room.  
\---

“What’s going on scout?”

“...Dad did you ever not want the stuff I made you?” Alex Reagan had been adopted but her father had been the biological parent she had never known or wanted to know. Richard’s stiffness had thrown into doubt every macaroni picture ,every gift card, and the embroidered fish tie that he’d worn to every family function and even one policeman’s ball.”

“I loved everything you gave me. I still wear the fish tie.” there was a sound of a creak, “I wore it yesterday.”

“Yeah but as a person.” Alex tapped her pen against the table, “As a...well as a _man_ as a dad I mean I think we can be honest with each other about this right? Is this just a cheap holiday to sell cards?”

“Who did Nic get pregnant?-”

“Dad!” Alex balked, “I’m honestly asking. I mean do you want me to be sending you a card and calling? Should I be sending gifts?...”

“No no.” Daniel Reagan coughed on the other side of the phone and Alex felt her heart lurch, “Listen Alex. Every good parent, every mom and dad but also every parent!- Veronica and Kenny’s boy-child. _Child_ came out as nonbinary something and he’s been pushing all this literature on us about trans kids so I’m trying here. Every parent - we put up with it. Some of it’s good. I like the fish tie otherwise I wouldn’t have put it on in front of the captain you know that right?”

Alex felt emotion well up in her chest and she smiled, “Yeah.”

“But what matters is the love. You know. You could just text me. Or even think of me. As long as we know you’re happy though that’s what matters. The rest? Icing on the cake kiddo.”

They talked. She listened to her father talk about his partner’s child. Her mother came on and told her about the family plans ( waffle’s at sturgis cafe, a movie) and they hung up with lots of love. She turned to find Richard in a doorway holding a dark brown album and a round flat disc that made her pause.

He looked uncomfortable. Emotional for a moment before it slid behind a veneer of professionalism. At a moment like this years ago - two years ago - he would have fled and been gone the rest of the day. Standing at the edge of his father’s living room like a dog waiting to be told he could enter the room.  
“I was waiting for you to finish talking to your father.” he paused, “Since you asked about the Strand family traditions however I thought we could pause and I’d show you the one thing my father seemed to prize that Cheryl and I made for him.” He paused, “I didn’t know he kept it...truth be told.”

Alex sat back, quietly as he approached. Setting down the brown photo album he set a stone disc on the table. Engraved in it - pressed like one of those kit’s she’d seen to put footprints and handprints in were two little hands. It was hard imagining Richard Strand - a man who looked more suited to breaking books than reading them - with tiny hands but there they were. Two little handprints. 

“Aww.” Alex couldn’t keep the glee out of her voice, “You and Cheryl?”

“My mother came up with the idea. I know it’s rather common now but she set the cement and I can only imagine she dragged us out of the garden. This one’s me.”

He tapped the hand on the right where a childish hand had drawn R.S on it. The other hand had C.S and a tiny heart drawn beside the left palm. Alex sniffed, “This is cute.”

“...Yes.” Richard squirmed, “I didn’t know he kept this. I found it by accident when I was looking for-” he paused, “...Fuck. The book I left in his office. Be right back.”

Alex reached for the album the moment his back was turned. Her fingers pulled the worn engraved book towards her only to hear -

“Don’t touch that album until I get back!”

She pushed it away for a moment - before shrugging her shoulders. If he was going to show it to her anyway there wasn’t harm in looking right?

So why the pause? Why staring at it with the same curiosity her father would often tsk and chuckle at? She drummed her fingers and scratched the back of her neck just in time to see Richard return with two huge tomes setting them on the table. Pausing, he pulled the album to him.

“You didn’t open it.”

“You said not to.”

The two of them stared at each other, Richard’s expression unreadable before he exhaled, “Since you seem determined to pity me. Let me demonstrate that I have had more than enough trinkets and reminders and that Charlie and I-”

He sighed, freezing, “Charlie’s a grown woman and we had -” he shook his head and opened it, “Well. Look.” 

The first page had a childish drawing of a bearded man and a girl with short red-green hair. In a childish hand at the top was written “My Daddy and Me Happy Father’s Day” in a labored hand on the bottom were the words “Charlie Strand Age 6.”

“I taught her how to write early.” he beamed, “It’s impressive isn’t it?”

Alex grinned - privately thinking it didn’t look any different from other 6 year olds writing - but Richard’s pride was evident. 

The other pictures were the same with Alex noting that the art continued to improve - impressively. 

“We had an agreement. I just asked for a picture every year. One year she did give me a tie and I still wear it. It’s the dark green one with the flowers?”

“The one you wore when we first met?”

He blinked at her, looking uncomfortable. Alex also looked uncomfortable, tapping her fingers on the table before he continued to turn pages. 

“...Holy shit Richard Charlie is really talented.”

“Mm Hmm.” he smiled, “ Sometimes she’d write letters on the back, sometimes she’d frame them. After Coralee I put them all in an album so I could carry it if I needed to be away for long periods of time…”

He sighed, “And that’s why you’re worried about me right?”

She sighed, “I mean you don’t offer useless information unless it bothers you. You need to accept that.” she pointed her pen at him, “You just need to. So yeah, it does bother you.”

His expression slipped into unreadability before he turned a page. The lovingly crafted art changed after a detailed pair of chickens and wheelbarrows. Now they were newspaper clippings.

“Charlie Jacobson Wins Local Spelling Bee.”

“Charlie Jacobson Valedictorian, gives speech to graduating class-”

“It’s a bit...stalkerish.” Richard murmured, “But sometimes what you want to know is you want to see your children...thriving. You want to see them happy and living their life.”

The newspaper clippings changed to clippings from academic journals. Richard’s smile went softer as he turned each page.

“Doctor Charlie Jacobson launches paper on meaning of Donatello’s-”

“I wish she’d call you.” 

It burst out as Alex watched him turn pages, “It just doesn’t seem right. Call me traditional, call me caring, but-”

“She has. Well she hasn’t called me.” Richard looked relaxed, “...In fact I ought to thank _you_ I think. After you tracked her down and after everything that happened last year she sent me this.”

The last page was a wedding announcement. _Charlie Jacobson and Elizabeth Castro request the honor of your presence at their wedding_. It was done in green and white with flowers. He touched it, the love in his features warm.

“It does hurt. Not hearing her voice,” His voice was soft, “Not being able to have her call. I’d even give her money. I feel like I missed out on that. Arguing over poor business decisions and teenage mistakes... “

His voice trails off, “But she’s doing well. And my feelings don’t matter. And she may be the best Strand parent out of all of us.” 

The last photo was of two women, one dark haired and one dark red haired. In their arms they held a very chubby baby, hands grasping for the camera. Alex’s eyes went wide, “...Holy shit Richard you’re a grandfather why didn’t-”

He stared at her and she lowered her gaze, “Fuck. Sorry yeah.”

“His name is Mateo.” He smiled, “I wrote her and asked her if I could send him money. She agreed. She also said that there was a chance...if we communicated more...that we could talk. All of us.” 

“Does he draw?” Alex’s heart was warm.

“I’m told he plays football. Real football - not the NFL football that kills people. So I’ve been following the teams and familiarizing myself with the sport. You know. He’s good. It’s that Strand...influence. Indirectly. We’re very good at things young.” 

Alex rolled her eyes, chest warm and eyes leaking.

“I’d go to a football game. I mean if you wanted.”

He grinned at that and closed the book, “...But since you seemed concerned, I want to assuage your fears. I’m fine. But perhaps...I was testy.” He sighed, “I didn’t like being here around today. But I guess Howard Strand gave a damn.”

He sighed, “...But you should be aware that Father’s Day was started by a woman.” he smiled, “That fact made me happy when I was a child.”

“It kind of does.” Alex leaned back, “My dad and I have always been closer.”

“Tell me about him.” Richard settled back, “Your father.” 

She blew out a breath, “Pssh - god. What do you want me to say? I mean you know-”

“He’s a police officer. I know the details. But-” He gestured with his hand, “The rest of it. You know my darkest secrets.” she let it slide that knowing those secrets felt like an apology for him being an asshole, but perhaps this was her penance. 

“Right.”

She had to think. Small hands and construction paper. Macaroni necklaces. She tapped her pen again trying to think of where to begin. Brushing hair behind her ear she smiled.

“He likes donuts. But he likes fancy donuts. He said it was the stupidest cliche because as a cop he should have started liking donuts but downtown opened a voodoo donut and he likes the sparkly ones. Edible glitter and sparkles and gummy bears. My mother’s worried about his weight but he runs 10 miles a day. The man’s going to outlive all of us.” she snorted back laughter, “...When I was 12 I learned how to cross stitch and I made him a tie with a leaping fish. He still wears it apparently. What is it with children and ties?” 

“Father’s day was founded by greeting cards and men’s products companies - they worked with Dodd.”

“...Kind of darkens the whole “Girl making a holiday for her dad” story you were trying to sell me.” 

His only response was a shrug. Raising his tea to his lips she thought he looked amused.

“...Anyway. I call him every father’s day. And I send him something. I called him and I asked him if he liked what I sent him and he told me that it was nice, but what mattered was seeing I was happy and doing well.”

“...And are you?” 

She looked at her hands before looking at him, “Am I what?”

“Happy and doing well.” Richard’s expression was sincere, “...Your father asked.” 

“I am.” 

She was. Sitting here talking to this man. This strange anxiety and anger inducing man. She stared at the photo album and watched him draw it back protectively.

“I’d like you to meet him one day.” her voice was soft, “...I think he’d be-I think it’d be good.”

“I’m sure we’d get along famously. You told me he likes to hunt and fish. The last strand who hunted and fished was my grandfather.”

“I’m serious.” 

“...I’ll tell you what.” He stood slowly, expression unreadable, “...You agree to come to a football game with me. And I’ll agree to hunt and fish with your father.”

“Wait.”

She paused as he picked up his treasures, “Wait I was the one who wanted to-Richard?-” He ignored her, smirking to himself, “ _Richard Strand get back here and explain yourself_ -!”

She watched him go before sitting down and smiling. The next father’s day - she vowed - she’d have something new to show her father.  
\---

**Author's Note:**

> Richard and Charlie father-daughter times give me *life*  
> Alex’s family headcanon is borrowed.  
> Richard is a pretentious turd and we love him.  
> Sora Dodd actually *did* found Father’s day to honor her father William Smart who was born in Arkansas - joined the confederacy, was captured, left the confederacy, and joined the union. So Sora Dodd has the dubious honor of being both a daughter of the confederacy and a daughter of the union.


End file.
